


Hollow Souls

by connorssock, Sylverstia



Series: Love Is Calorie Free [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Captain Allen, Android Gavin, Android Hank, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Human Connor, Human Nines, Human Sixty, IV drips, Illness, M/M, Vomiting, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylverstia/pseuds/Sylverstia
Summary: Before each mission, Sixty had a ritual. He would load up on food to make sure he had enough energy and focus to last the whole event. If only Connor's words hadn't cut so deep, made him want to prove that he was fine, completely in control. Having eaten too much, he loses the fight against his stomach in the sewers at a critical point of the mission and Allen suffered the consequences. Having messed up so bad, Sixty thinks he needs to be punished.





	Hollow Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Now with additional art by the amazing HyperKey!

The days that followed the argument were bad. Sixty was determined to prove to both Connor and Nines that he didn’t need them. He was perfectly fine without their intervention, without their care wrapped in anger and frustration. Connor could stuff his half-assed apology deeper than Hank’s cock could reach while Nines and his worst attempts at being neutral while backing Connor could go hang. Sixty was a fully grown adult, he didn’t need bitter babysitting.

Thankfully, work kept him busy, there was a looming mission. An anti-android cell had taken up residence in the sewers of all places and the SWAT team had been called in to flush them out – that had been Sanders’ pun but Sixty still found it in himself to smile at it. Still, with two days until the mission, Sixty had some preparations to do.

His usual eating habits changed, even Allen noticed them. In the morning, along with his banana and yoghurt, he pulled out a box of cereal. It was questionably out of date, soft with age but it was the way he liked it. Crunchy food had never appealed to him. At lunchtime he even managed a whole sandwich, even if he was trying not to gag by the end of it. It was for the good of the mission, he kept telling himself, to prove that he was a fully functioning human. He didn’t need help. All through it, Allen watched but said nothing.

On the morning of the mission, Sixty went as far as buttering two slices of bread and making himself eat it. It was more than he would usually eat before a mission but he was determined to prove that he was fine. Eating it all at 4am was perhaps not his finest idea, but they had to be on site by 5 and in position by 5:30. Catch the idiots in bed while they slept and all that. He barely said a word to Allen on the way to the meeting point, too intent on keeping the food in his stomach. Even as distracted as he was, he still saw the concerned looks sent his way which he valiantly ignored.

Getting ready for the mission was like every other time. Suiting up, final checks, including comm-lines, it was all routine. Once everybody was in position, it was show time. Teams swept through the tunnels, water and who knew what else sloshed around their feet. The smell was overwhelming and Sixty felt a bit more green with each breath he took.

Of course things couldn’t be easy. The anti-android group had to be vigilant at all hours, with look outs and a surprisingly functional system of defence. Rather than the usual yelling and cuffing, things got a lot more tense and the sewer systems echoed with the sound of gun shots.

For their part, Sixty and Allen were crouched behind a corner, knee deep in filth and trying to keep his stomach quiet. It was a losing battle though. He could feel his throat tightening, each breath made his whole torso too full, the need to purge, to get rid of the invasive smell was overpowering. Without any warning he turned away and heaved.

It was perfectly timed as some idiot tried to round the corner and best them, gun in hand. Sixty heard the gunshot and flinched even as he retched pitifully. A body hit the ground with a grunt and there was another shot. No pain came and Sixty turned to take in the scene, wiping his mouth. Allen was on the floor, blue pooling around him while their attacker was leaning against the wall, clutching their shoulder.

“Allen?” Sixty was on his knees, pulling his partner out of the filthy sludge, flecks of it flying everywhere as the struggled.

“Don’t panic, but I’m going to have to shut down for a bit now.”

Allen’s voice was static filled and Sixty’s stomach dropped as he powered down in his arms. Following protocol, Sixty called it in and another team was with them in moments. Matthews took care of the suspect while Thompson offered to carry Allen. The stubborn refusal from Sixty was met with a simple nod and falling in line behind him.

Out of the sewers, in the fresh air, Allen’s limp body was take from him, whisked away to a repair centre where they were going to try and put him back together. Thirium and who knew what else soaked Sixty’s uniform and he dripped steadily until they had set up the remote shower unit for the team to use. It was one step better than a hosepipe but in that moment, he would have welcomed the cold, almost painful spray. That at least would have been the start of the punishment he deserved.

All through debrief and the following few hours of report writing, Sixty couldn’t focus. His mind kept returning to the incident. How it could have, no, how it should have gone. If only Sixty hadn’t been such a stubborn idiot, vying to prove a point. Then he wouldn’t have been spewing his guts out and leaving Allen alone against their assailant and with split attention. Because he knew, in his heart of hearts, that Allen’s focus and concern was more on him than the situation at hand. Guilt ripped at Sixty’s conscience. Each time he looked around for Allen or found his water bottle hadn’t miraculously filled up, the sharp claws of regret dug in deeper. When he went home in the evening, alone for the first time in over a month, Sixty went straight to bed and ignored the pangs of hunger making his stomach cramp.

As per protocol, the next two days were mandatory rest days. There was no news of Allen, the repair centre refusing to give out information to unauthorised parties. Not like Allen was all but Sixty’s android. They lived together, worked together, heck, Sixty even fell asleep on him on a regular basis. What they had was a friendship. Although, he mused, friends didn’t exactly hold hands while watching films together. Or share chaste kisses of good night. Realisation and horror dawned on Sixty as he figured out that what he and Allen had wasn’t just a simple friendship. They had been, unbeknownst to him, starting to slip into something more, something he never thought he would get to explore. After all, Connor had always told him that if he didn’t love himself, nobody else could either. It made him wonder whether Allen knew where their relationship was heading. Perhaps it was for the best if he never returned.

The thought made his stomach churn and he dashed for the bathroom, heaving even though he hadn’t eaten at all that day. Bile splashed into the toilet and Sixty felt a little lighter. He deserved this - the aching muscles, the burn in his throat. He shouldn’t have eaten so much that morning, had probably been way over the acceptable 60kg he’d set himself. On a whim, he pulled the scales out and sneered at the 60.7 they showed. Fat. Fat, stupid, selfish, greedy unlovable. Those words all flitted through Sixty’s mind. It was just as well he didn’t feel like eating. He wouldn’t deserve it anyway.

Despite being used to not eating, Sixty still felt tired. He flopped down onto the sofa with a groan. In theory, he could watch TV or read, maybe even catch up on some of the stuff he’d been neglecting.Yet they all seemed like a monumental effort. Instead, Sixty closed his eyes and drifted off.

Waking up gagging was a novelty, even for him. His entire stomach cramped and Sixty stumbled towards the bathroom, only sheer stubborn refusal stopped him from throwing up in the living room. Doubled over the toilet, he coughed between bouts of muscle cramps and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. There was nothing in his stomach but bile and it hurt. He was too tired to move and crossed his arms over the seat, letting his head rest uncomfortably on the bones and his tears dripped into the dirty water.

Once satisfied that his stomach was no longer rebelling, Sixty pushed away from the toilet and reached for the flush. On shaking legs, he got up and leaned heavily on the sink, splashed his face with water and rinsed his mouth. All things considered, he probably needed a drink too but the kitchen and his water bottle sounded too far away. Taking a few handfuls of water from the tap, he settled back down on the floor, intent on gathering up the energy to haul himself somewhere more comfortable. It should have only taken him a few minutes but energy was still lacking. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time while his stomach hurt. It cramped and churned angrily, leaving Sixty exhausted and cranky. Of course it was Connor’s fault. If he hadn’t tried to meddle, to fix Sixty, none of this would have ever happened.

On the next breath, Sixty gagged. Numbly, he doubled over above the toilet bowl and tried to bring up something, anything. Even his throat cramped with the force of his heaving and the small amount of water he’d drunk before came back up. It didn’t seem to be enough for his stomach though, which seemed intent on turning inside out. Sweat made his skin damp and his shirt stick to his back. Exhausted beyond recognition, Sixty pushed away from the bowl and laid on the floor, at least the cool floor helped combat the hot flush which seared through his body.

Lying on the floor wasn’t very comfortable though, it pressed against his spine, leaving bruises behind no doubt. With a little effort, Sixty sat up and glanced around, the laundry basket was next to him and he tipped it onto its side, pawing out the clothes until he could settle on them. It was going to be just five minutes, only until he clawed himself back together. Curling up on the comparatively softer pile of clothes, Sixty squeezed his eyes shut and tried to convince his stomach that it was just being stupid. Sadly, it didn’t work and soon, he was dry heaving into the toilet again, spitting the bitter bile from the back of his throat.

The cycle continued, he drank a little from the tap, settled on his nest of dirty clothes only to have to get up and bring up whatever little he had managed to drink some 20 minutes earlier. It was getting to the stage where he wondered if there was more going on than his usual need to cleanse after fucking up so bad.

Things were getting a little fuzzy. Everything hurt, his whole abdomen ached with fatigue yet there was no stopping. Over the last month, he would have called for Allen but now he was gone, possibly never to return. Hot tears burned Sixty’s eyes, the craving to have someone, anyone there with him was too big. He wanted the comfort of not being alone, of someone actually caring enough about him to soothe the aches, bring him a glass of water that he wouldn’t throw up. It had been so long since he’d felt this small and vulnerable. Despite his rocky upbringing, there had always been a solid presence, someone who had his back who he could rely on no matter what.

As feverishly as his sluggish body allowed him, Sixty reached into his pocket for his phone, glad that it was still there. He didn’t want to be alone, he wanted everything to just stop. There was only one person he could think of who could do that for him, he wanted his older brother. Squinting at his phone he dialled, “Connor?” he mumbled when the call connected. “You got a minute?”

The world was a blur, Sixty had a vague recollection of someone barging into his bathroom, cool hands turning him onto his side and making the world spin. But beyond that, there wasn’t much left. Maybe the odd bit of pain, murmuring voices, hands on his forehead but those could all have been a fever dream.

When Sixty finally woke up, he was no longer in the bathroom. Instead, he was in his own bed, the familiar ceiling an almost welcome sight. From his left came the sounds of soft, snuffling puffs of someone sleeping deeply. He was too tired to turn bodily, but Sixty tipped his head to the side and took in the sight of Connor, half curled on top of the covers, looking shattered even in his sleep. Their hands were barely brushing, the lightest of touches as if Connor had wanted to reach out and hold Sixty but couldn’t allow himself to do it. Without hesitation, Sixty grabbed his hand and winced when something pulled in the crook of his other elbow. Glancing over, he noted the IV drip which had been set up, the bag almost completely empty.

“You’re awake,” Connor’s voice was croaky and his eyes tired as he blinked at Sixty sleepily. “How do you feel?”

“Like Sleeping Beauty who was woken far too soon from her little nap.”

They stared at each other in silence and Sixty watched a tear trickled across the bridge of Connor’s nose.

“You had me so worried,” came the whispered admission. Immediately, Sixty released Connor’s hand from his and reached to pull his brother against him. He let Connor wrap around him, so careful to not crush him but unwilling to let him go.

“I’m sorry,” Sixty began but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

“Good morning,” Allen smiled at his cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”

“You’re back,” there was a hint of relieved disbelief in Sixty’s tone as he marvelled at the ease with which Allen looked over the IV line.

“I’m back,” he nodded, “repaired and upgraded. Just as well I got a few medical software patches. Didn’t think I’d need them so soon.”

“He’s the only reason you aren’t in hospital right now,” Connor cut in. That sent a chill down Sixty’s spine. He didn’t want to go to the hospital again, they never helped, not the way that was a long term fix. Even if Connor and Nines nagged him that is was because he was refusing to admit that there was a problem. Doggedly, Sixty maintained that hospitals only helped him gain weight but didn’t help with any underlying issues. Not that there were any underlying issues. Sixty was just fine, in complete control of everything. They wouldn’t have let him be captain of the SWAT team if he wasn’t fit for such a role.

“Thank you,” Sixty managed to mutter and watched the cheery smile Allen sent him. It was accompanied by a fond hair ruffle.

“Anything for you. I’m glad you’re back with us.” Allen grinned and looked over at Connor. “You android has been grumbling non-stop since you ditched him in the kitchen. Can I tell him you’re awake?”

Realising that Hank was there too made something still in Sixty and he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the idea of being so vulnerable in front of him, or the lack of familiarity. Of the whole family unit, Sixty was least familiar with Hank who always seemed standoffish, borderline hostile towards him. Once or twice, Sixty had caught hints of grumbling about the stress he puts on Connor but he chose to ignore those. If Hank really had an issue with him, then he could very well take it up with him rather than mutter unintelligibly behind his back.

The IV drip ran empty as Sixty and Connor were dozing, curled together. They were rudely awakened by the sound of the front door slamming open and Gavin loudly declaring “the cavalry is here!” Along with the declaration came the subtle scent of soup which was very likely Nines’ doing. Sure enough, three minutes later the bedroom door was being shouldered open and Allen placed a tray with two steaming bowls on the side.

“Think you’re up for a little soup?” he asked, hope in his eyes. Resigned, Sixty nodded.

Sitting up was a bit of an adventure, Allen helped pull the IV free, even put a unicorn plaster over the puncture site. The bowl was placed in his hand with a small smile and Connor received the same treatment. Just as Allen settled on one side of the bed, Nines appeared in the doorway with his own bowl.

“Room for one more?” he asked and made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed when motioned to enter. Gavin and Hank trailed behind him.

For a change, nobody was fussing over how much or little Sixty ate. There was no patronising praise for each mouthful he took, even if he avoided the chunks of pasta and vegetables in favour of the broth, nobody said anything. After less than half the bowl, Sixty was putting it back down with a frown.

“Don’t force yourself,” Allen took the bowl gently, “you had a pretty nasty tummy bug thanks for splashing about in the sewers. So take it easy, your stomach will thank you for it.”

Now that Sixty was awake, there was less of an urgency around him. Nines and Gavin popped in and out as they needed, often bringing food that was easy on the stomach. Even Connor and Hank had ventured out, on the premise that Connor needed to get changed, shower and sleep. In the privacy of his bedroom, Sixty joked with Allen that Connor also needed a good deep dicking, the last few days was probably the longest he had gone without in a while.

A few days later, it was just Allen and Sixty home. Still too weak to go to work, Sixty spent most of his days in bed. If he needed anything, Allen would either get it for him or carry him to the bathroom. It was there, alone that Sixty took a breath and pulled the scales out. As always, he stripped, used the toilet and made sure he was as light as possible before standing on them.

57.1kg.

Fuck. He’s lost 3kg through being ill. No wonder Connor had been worried sick. A bit of mental arithmetic and Sixty realised his BMI was down to 17. He’d get kicked off the team for that. Then his entire life would crumble, his work was his everything. Gulping back breaths, he sank to the floor with a whimper.

“Sixty?” Allen’s worried voice called from the other side of the door. “Everything okay?”

There was nothing Sixty could say to that. Things weren’t okay but he didn’t know how to say it. When the door opened, he didn’t even bother looking up from where he was kneeling and doubled over with sobs.

A bathrobe was rapidly wrapped around him, the scales shoved out of the way. Allen pulled him close to his chest.  


“I’m sorry,” Sixty babbled. “I didn’t mean to get like this. I want to stop. I don’t want to be like this anymore. Help me.” He clutched at Allen’s t-shirt. “Please help me.”

A hand ran up and down his back, bouncing over the outline of his ribs gently. Allen pulled him closer, buried his nose in his hair as he whispered promises to Sixty. It wasn’t going to be an easy or a short journey, but he wasn’t going to be alone. Allen was going to be alongside him, holding him when things got tough and cheering when things were going well. For the first time in a long while, Sixty felt hope.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill - tumblr - @connorssock


End file.
